


Theft By Consent

by LuckyDiceKirby



Category: Gentleman Bastard Sequence - Scott Lynch, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyDiceKirby/pseuds/LuckyDiceKirby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"The political system here is a sham," Enjolras began, and R put the other hand over his face as well, because Enjolras was beautiful, and idealistic, and very, very stupid, and they were probably both going to die because of it."</i> Gentleman Bastards AU.</p><p>(Or: the one where Enjolras thinks fucking with the Bondsmagi is a good idea.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Theft By Consent

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on [tumblr](http://luckydicekirby.tumblr.com/post/106092011207/hey-luckygandor-i-heard-you-thought-a-e-r) as a Christmas present for [luckygandor](http://luckygandor.tumblr.com/). It's been edited to add a tiny bit of context/exposition so that it's readable for people not familiar with the Gentlemen Bastards series. (everyone should totally read the Gentlemen Bastards books, though, they're great.)
> 
> Also, heads up if you haven't read Gentlemen Bastards but are planning to--this takes place around the third book of the series, and spoils some fairly major plot points for the other two books.

_"What is government but theft by consent?"_ \- _The Republic of Thieves_ , Scott Lynch 

 

R, Combeferre and Courfeyrac stumbled into the city of Karthain, home of the Bondsmagi, much like drunks stumbling home so late that the sun had risen ahead of them: they were tired, somewhat confused, and people wouldn't stop fucking talking at them.

"I fucking hate Bondsmagi," R said under his breath to Combeferre, while Courfeyrac talked to the very important people from this city that they would be in charge of for the next several weeks.

"A Bondsmage just saved your life," Combeferre pointed out somewhat reasonably, adjusting his optics. This was technically true, but R was not in the mood for reasonable. 

"A different Bondsmage also killed three of our closest friends. And this one gave us the _lovely_ job of trying to fix an election that barely means anything anyway," he said. 

"Don't act like you're not thrilled to be here," Courfeyrac said over his shoulder. "You heard what Patience said about Enjolras being here. As if there's any place in this world you'd rather be than Karthain right now."

"He has a point," said Combeferre.

R groaned. "I look like I've been gnawed on by a shark and then spit out a few times," he said. "Up until a few days ago I was dying, and now I have to try to win a stupid election for some Bondsmagi against fucking _Enjolras_."

"You're so pleased you can't see straight," Combeferre observed.

R laughed. "This is going to end fucking horribly," he said, but Combeferre was not quite wrong.

-

The deal Patience had offered was this: if they agreed to work with her faction's political party in the election in Karthain, and did everything necessary in order to get them the win, she would save R from the poison that had been busy killing him. She had, of course, refrained from mentioning Enjolras' part in the proceedings until after they had already agreed. 

Enjolras, whom R had not seen in five years, was to be their opposition. They'd been raised together as children, learned together and stolen together, and five years ago Enjolras had left. If R thought about this too closely for too long, he began to feel as though the contents of his stomach might be happier elsewhere, and so he endeavored to think of it as little as possible. He focused instead on the matter at hand. The matter at hand being the Bondsmagi, their fucking sham elections, and how he was going to win this game if it killed him.

The Bondsmagi were not R's favorite people. Most of this stemmed from the fact that back in Camorr, which had been his and Combeferre and Courfeyrac's home, and Enjolras', once upon a time, a Bondsmage had murdered Joly and Bossuet and Jehan. R had gotten as much revenge as it was possible to get when killing a Bondsmage would send all the rest of them after you and everyone you loved, but the sight of them still set his teeth on edge. Karthain was where they lived and took jobs, and so R was also not particularly fond of the place. Karthain's political system was run by the Bondsmagi, of course, although a bit of their magic ensured that the people didn't quite know it. The elections were something of a joke, but a joke that the Bonsmagi took very seriously. R was capable of taking very little seriously, but when it came to competing with Enjolras, he could probably manage it. 

They got to the lodgings Patience and her party had arranged for them, and he and Combeferre and Courfeyrac began hatching plans. There hadn't been much scheming since the disastrous plan back in Tal Verrar, and the fact that R had been dying after the end of that con had rather put a damper on things, so it was good, in a way, to get back to what they did best: lying and cheating their asses off.

Nothing could ever be easy with Enjolras, of course, and so he started fucking things up for them almost immediately. Most of it was easily enough sorted, but when he arranged for a letter to end up in R's coat pocket while he was still wearing it, in a sort of reverse pick pocketing that had R checking all of his pockets at least three times, R began to find it rather hard to focus on their job.

"Gods, R," said Courfeyrac, watching him pace and run his fingers through his hair. "Shouldn't you be happy? Enjolras wants to meet with you. Congratulations, you can stop pining for once in your life."

"I am happy," R said, not sounding it. "I'm also almost positive I'm going to ruin it the moment I walk in the door. You know how I am around him, Courfeyrac."

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "You two always have a way of sorting things out that remains a mystery to the rest of us mere mortals," he said. 

That way of sorting things out often involved copious amounts of shouting, and that was not really how R wanted his first meeting with Enjolras in five years to go. He supposed, though, that he might as well resign himself to the inevitable. 

-

Enjolras had arranged for them to meet in a very nice tower that probably belonged to somebody very rich. R wondered if Enjolras was trying to impress him, or intimidate him, or if this had merely seemed like the most logical option. There really wasn't any way to tell with him.

A servant pointed R the right way up the stairs, and so R went. There was only one door at the top. R shifted on his feet and stared at it. Knocking seemed the obvious thing to do, but his hand didn't quite seem up to the job at the moment.

After he'd spent a few moments quietly berating himself for being so gods-damned pathetic, the door opened without any intervention from R.

R blinked. Enjolras didn't look all that different, really; he was still shockingly blond, still shockingly beautiful, and he still looked at R like he was a puzzle to be solved. R, for his part, found that he still couldn't look at anything else when Enjolras was in the room. He could feel himself staring, but couldn't seem to talk his eyes into stopping.

"Come in," he said. R did.

For a moment, they simply stood there, face to face. There was food laid out on a table in the center of the room, and wine, which R's palms already itched to pour. 

"So," Enjolras said, as the silence stretched. 

"You look well," R said, stupidly. Enjolras hadn't looked bad a day in his life.

"And you look like you've been dragged behind a boat all the way here from Camorr," Enjolras said, one corner of his mouth turned up.

R rolled his eyes. "Well, when you put it like that," he said, and he decided that was about enough for formalities. He sat down at the table and poured himself a glass of wine. "Things have been a bit rough lately. I'm sure you've heard."

"Not as much as I would like," Enjolras said, coming to join R at the table. R poured him a drink and pushed it towards him. Enjolras curled his fingers around the stem of the wineglass, although he did not drink.

"Joly and Bossuet are dead," R said. Putting it off seemed pointless, and it was obvious by now that he'd forgotten every clever thing he'd ever planned to say to Enjolras anyway.

Enjolras watched the ripples in his glass. His knuckles tightened around it. "I suppose I knew that," he said. "When you and Combeferre and Courfeyrac arrived here alone. I hoped there was another explanation."

R smiled tightly and drained his own glass. "When in doubt, the explanation that involves the most death is surely the answer. That’s an axiom, isn't it? It ought to be." 

"I don't think so, no," Enjolras said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"It was a Bondsmage who did it, you know," R said. "And now we're both working for them. How fucked up is that?" 

Enjolras blinked. "No," he said slowly. "I didn't know that." 

"Don't worry, he got what he deserved. Short of actually killing him, of course, I do have some sense of self-preservation." R poured himself another glass of wine.

"R," Enjolras said. He reached out to still R's hand, mid-pour, and it was a testament to both of their reflexes that none of the wine ended up spilled on the table. 

It was the first time they'd touched in five years. R turned his wrist in Enjolras' grip and took his hand, threading their fingers together. "It's good to see you again," he said. "Sorry to be maudlin, but you know I can't help it."

"You don't want to be here," Enjolras observed.

"Do you mean in Karthain or in this room?"

"Karthain. Whether or not you want to be in this room is still up in the air, I think."

R laughed, and let go of Enjolras' hand. "Oh, I always want to be where you are," he said.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes at him, and R sighed. There was that moment ruined, then. "So why am I here?" he asked. "Are we going to try to swindle the Bondsmagi for all they're worth while we're in town? Because I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Not quite," Enjolras said. "There is something I wished to discuss with you, however. A possible course of action."

Enjolras really hadn't changed at all. R could swindle and scheme and con with the best of them, but when it came to grand, sweeping plans, Enjolras had always been the one to talk to, even when they were young.

"Alright," R said, leaning his elbows on the table. "What's on your mind, Enjolras, and how many objections am I going to have once I hear it?"

"Many, I'm sure," Enjolras said, not quite managing to sound upset about it. "It's about the Bondsmagi. I wouldn't say that they really deserve all the political power they've taken here, would you?"

Oh, _fuck._

"Enjolras," R asked, in the careful way one sometimes had to ask Enjolras things, "please tell me you are not trying to start a revolution against the Bondsmagi."

Enjolras crossed his arms and set his jaw. These were not good signs. R put one hand over his face, bracingly. 

"The political system here is a sham," Enjolras began, and R put the other hand over his face as well, because Enjolras was beautiful, and idealistic, and very, very stupid, and they were probably both going to die because of it.

"Can I at least kiss you before you start in on your plan to get us both killed in what will probably be an extremely gruesome fashion?" R asked. Enjolras raised an eyebrow and didn't stop talking, so that was probably a no. R poured himself another drink, resigned, and listened.

Once Enjolras had wound down his speech and R had emptied half a bottle of wine, he looked at R expectantly. Looking for approval and expecting argument, probably, and R was happy to oblige him.

"You're going to get us all killed, Enjolras," R said. "You do not fuck with these people. You know that, everyone knows that, why do you think their political system has stood completely uncontested for so long?"

"You mean aside from what essentially amounts to magical brainwashing," Enjolras said.

"Yes, aside from that--this isn't our fight. We don't even belong here, you know Combeferre and Courfeyrac and I are only here because we have no choice, and you're only here on a job--"

"Yes, because everything's just a job to you, isn't it?" Enjolras demanded. He never did take criticism well.

"It is when the alternative is my friends dying, Enjolras," R said. 

"Of course, because you've been doing such a good job of keeping our friends safe in my absence, haven't you?" 

R very carefully considered the merits of throwing the wine bottle at Enjolras' face. He would deserve it, but it would really be a shame if he cut his face on the glass. He decided instead to simply down the rest of it in one go while Enjolras watched, face slowly falling from righteous fury to what was probably regret.

"I'm sorry," Enjolras said, stiff and uncomfortable, the way he always sounded when he was apologizing. "I didn't mean that."

"Oh, you meant it," R said, standing up, swaying on his feet only slightly. "I'm going."

"R," Enjolras said. He put out a hand to touch R's shoulder, but R batted it away. 

"Oh, so now you want to touch me? After five years gone without a word, without a fucking visit?"

"Look, R--"

"You left, Enjolras. You left, and you don't have any right to blame me for whatever happened in your absence."

"I didn't mean it," Enjolras said again. "R, it wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" R asked, tipping his head back to look at the incredibly ornate ceiling of this ridiculous tower. "Isn't it always? That's how the story goes: R, eternal fuck-up, can't do anything right, doesn't deserve the loyalty of his friends or to even follow the great Enjolras, tripping at his heels like a dog--really it's a pity Lamarque put all the effort into raising me--"

"R," Enjolras said again. This time his hand went to R's cheek, and R didn't stop him, though he also didn't stop talking.

"It's a pity you weren't there to save us all from our own folly, really it's a wonder any of us made it out without your brilliance, it's a wonder I've survived--"

Enjolras kissed him, first his forehead and then his cheek, the bridge of his nose, and finally his mouth, just once. R went quiet and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," Enjolras said.

R shrugged without opening his eyes, and didn't move. Even angry, he couldn't help but want Enjolras close. "In all honesty, you would have probably just made it worse."

"And here I thought you were trying to say you missed me," Enjolras said. R opened his eyes and saw that he was almost smiling.

"Doesn't that go without saying?"

Enjolras said nothing, and he took a step back, letting his hand fall from R's face. R refrained from asking if Enjolras had missed _him_ , because there was no guarantee he would like the answer.

"Are you going to apologize for leaving, too?" R asked.

"No," Enjolras said, ruthlessly honest. "But I am glad to see you again."

"Likewise," R said, and then he sighed. "Look, if you want my help with your idiotic dreams of revolution, you know you're going to have to talk to Combeferre or Courfeyrac as well."

"I'll arrange a meeting," Enjolras said. "There'll be a messenger at your lodgings sometime tomorrow."

That signaled a pretty clear end to the night, and they were both already standing, the door at R's back. He wanted badly to kiss Enjolras again, and wanted just as badly to seem as if he were above wanting to. 

They stood for minutes that R might have been better able to measure if not for the wine. They watched each other, and R wondered what Enjolras was thinking. 

In the end, Enjolras simply left, clasping R's arm once before walking past him out the door. R went to the window and leaned out over the edge, watching the two moons hanging low in the sky, and he wondered why Enjolras always felt like he had to save everyone.

-

In Camorr, Enjolras had once asked R, "Do you ever wonder why the Thirteenth chose you for a priest instead of me?" The Thirteenth, the Faceless God, watched over people like R and Enjolras, over thieves and liars and con artists. 

R had laughed. "Have I ever wondered, he asks," he said. "It's not my place to question a god, of course--it seems a cruel joke, does it not? And who better suited to cruel jokes than our patron. And in truth you are much too godly yourself, to serve one. You would outshine the very being you are meant to venerate."

"Is even this a joke to you?" Enjolras demanded.

R sighed. "No," he said. "I haven't wondered, Enjolras, because I know perfectly well why I was chosen over you."

Enjolras narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips. "Do enlighten me," he said.

R drew his arms out expansively, encompassing the whole of the room, the whole of Lamarque's lair, the whole of Camorr. "You are a very good thief, Enjolras, but let me ask you--is this all you want in the world? Are you content to spend your days among us Gentlemen Bastards, swindling the rich out of their ill gotten coin?"

"They deserve it," Enjolras said.

"Yes, Enjolras, they do, and that matters to you. Whereas I don't care at all whether they deserve it or not," R said. "That's why the Thirteenth chose me. I'm a thief, a child of the gutter, and nothing more. You're different, Enjolras. You care, you have ideas, you like what we do because it's _just_. You're meant for something greater than this."

Enjolras was quiet after that. He leaned his head against R's shoulder, and so R found the strength within himself to be quiet too. In those days moments like these were rare: if they weren't fighting they were fucking. Peaceful moments were new, and fragile, and to be treasured.

R kicked himself for it later, for the whole conversation, for saying too much. So typical of him, really, to sow the seeds of his own downfall. Enjolras would surely have gone on his own anyway, eventually, even if R had said nothing. But it always made R's chest ache, to know that he was the one who had put the idea in Enjolras' head that he might ever want to leave, that perhaps it was his own fault when he left their gang so soon after Lamarque's death.

-

On the way back to their lodgings, R did his best to avoid either Combeferre or Courfeyrac. He slipped back into his rooms as quietly as he could. Luckily, along with learning how to pick locks and lie and swindle rich assholes out of their valuables, he'd spent much of his youth learning how to sneak quietly back into his own room while very, very drunk. Lamarque had heard him most times, of course, but at least it had given him a lot of good practice.

As it turned out, the effort was wasted; while he fought his way out of his waistcoat in the dark, R turned, stumbled, and discovered that Courfeyrac was lying on R's bed with his hands tucked behind his head, legs crossed comfortably, smirking up at R in the dim moonlight.

"Need some help?" he asked, unhelpfully.

R swore at him as he finished the removal of his waistcoat. Once it was off, R threw it at him, before he started attacking the problem of his boots. Courfeyrac, being sober, caught the waistcoat easily and folded it carefully before setting it beside himself on the bed.

"What do you want, Courfeyrac?" R asked, pulling at the laces of his boots. "Because there is a dagger in this boot, and considering the amount of wine I have drunk tonight, my hand might slip and it could end up flying in the direction of your face."

"You wouldn't dare damage a masterpiece in such a careless manner," Courfeyrac said easily, crossing and re-crossing his legs. "I came to ask you about your date, of course."

Laces defeated, R pulled off one boot and then the other. He very politely did not throw them at Courfeyrac's head. He instead shoved him over on the bed so that R could sit beside him and put his face in his hands.

Courfeyrac patted his back consolingly. "That bad, huh?"

"I don't know," R said. "He was kind of an asshole, as usual. I always seem to put my foot in my mouth around him."

"That, my friend, is a condition that the great thinkers tend to call 'love'." 

"You'd think after five years I'd have hit on the perfect thing to say to him."

"To what? Make him come back? You know no one can tell Enjolras to do anything, R." Courfeyrac grinned, suddenly sly. "Was he happy to see you?" He waggled his eyebrows ostentatiously. R cuffed him on the shoulder.

"He was. At least a little. Also, he's still an idiot, and he wants to start a rebellion."

The deflection was a little obvious, but the situation was serious enough that it worked; Courfeyrac stopped making ridiculous kissing faces at R and sobered immediately. "A rebellion? _Here_?" he demanded. 

"He said he's send someone to set up a meeting tomorrow," R said. "You and Combeferre can hear all about it."

Courfeyrac started laughing then, uproariously, loud enough that R wondered if he was in danger of waking Combeferre and incurring his wrath. "Oh, this should be interesting," he said, and R couldn't help but smile, because he certainly wasn't wrong.

-

The first few moments when all four of them were in the same room again were odd. R very suddenly felt like a teenager, felt like Lamarque should be barking orders at him and Joly and Bossuet should be there beside him, getting themselves into trouble. He almost couldn't breathe for a moment with missing them.

He wasn't sure what the rest of them were feeling, as Enjolras shifted on his feet and eyed Courfeyrac and Combeferre, but he assumed it was probably much the same.

They sat in a secluded room in a particularly unpopular tavern at the edges of Karthain, cheap wine and crusts of bread that none of them touched sitting on the table. Courfeyrac, Combeferre and R had been sitting, waiting for Enjolras to grace them with his presence, and now he stood before them, their leader still, even after his years of absence.

Eventually R broke the silence, because someone had to. "Ah, here we are," he said, spreading his arms wide. "The triumvirate together once again."

Combeferre rolled his eyes good-naturedly, Courfeyrac laughed, and Enjolras scowled. R smiled. But for the absence of Joly and Bossuet, it almost felt like being home again.

"And you," Enjolras said.

R inclined his head. "And me."

The silence returned for another moment, before Courfeyrac let out an exasperated sigh and stood to grab Enjolras in a hug. R didn't try very hard to restrain his laughter at Enjolras' shocked expression. Once Courfeyrac released him, Combeferre hugged him as well, although he had the grace to ask permission first.

"We missed you," Combeferre said. Enjolras smiled, just slightly.

Courfeyrac clapped his hands together, probably recognizing that they had reached the limit of the amount of frank discussion of emotion that Enjolras could handle in one day. "So," he said. "Let's get down to business. R tells me you have a terribly stupid plan."

Combeferre pursed his lips. "Are you sure we can talk freely here?" he asked Enjolras.

"I'm confident I wasn't followed," Enjolras said. "Are you?"

Courfeyrac put a hand to his heart and gasped in mock indignation. Combeferre said, "As sure as we can be in a city like Karthain. You know what the Bondsmagi can do, Enjolras."

"They can't babysit us every minute of every day," Enjolras said. 

"You're betting our lives on that?" R asked. 

"You're the only one of us they couldn't control if they wanted to, _R_ ," Enjolras said. "The rest of us, they know our true names, and have power over us. You, of all of us, are the safest."

Combeferre drew his brows together and Courfeyrac started to very carefully fix his hair. R bit back a sigh. Enjolras really had no tact at all. It might be true, but there was no reason to go reminding Combeferre and Courfeyrac of how helpless they were. Enjolras, of course, couldn't feel helpless if he tried, and didn't quite understand the emotion. 

R said, "All the more reason that whatever you're planning is a terrible, terrible idea, and we should spend the rest of this meeting drinking and reminiscing and then go back to our rooms and play the game like the Bondsmagi want us to."

Enjolras' eyes lit up. "A _game_ , that's what they call it," he said heatedly. "The five-year game, an _entire election_ that's nothing but a game to the people in charge. Where's the justice in that?" He dragged a hand through his hair. "At least in Camorr no one pretends that the situation is ideal; we all come up with ways to work around it. Here they don't even have that option, they're not even allowed to know anything is wrong at all. It's as if the whole lot of them are Gentled, it's not _right_."

His eyes were shining, his cheeks were flushed, and R, for a moment, couldn't breathe.

It didn't make his ideas any less stupid, or any less likely to end with the four of them dead. But it did made R believe that maybe, it would be worth it. 

Courfeyrac crossed his legs and leaned his head against his hand, elbows resting on the table. Combeferre took off his optics and began cleaning them against the linen of his shirt, and he spoke first. "Tell us then, Enjolras," he said, "what did you have in mind?"

Enjolras told them.

-

What Enjolras had in mind involved a lot of alchemical explosives and too much goddamn bravado, which was typical of him, really. 

"You can't be serious," R said. "You want to blow up their fucking center of government--what do they call it, the Sky Chamber? There's no way it will be unprotected."

"I have contacts in the city. They assure me it's not as impenetrable as the Bondsmagi like to claim," Enjolras said. "They'll help us, and they have plans for what to do afterwards. This is the first step to destabilizing the Bondsmagi's power, the first step to getting them out of Karthain for good."

"Disrupt the governing body, maybe show them they aren't as invincible as they think they are," Combeferre mused.

"And if we time it right..." began Courfeyrac.

"We can disrupt the election as well," Enjolras finished.

"The election that the four of us are here to run for them under _pain of death_ ," R said, clenching his fists. "This isn't going to work, Enjolras."

"It will," said Enjolras, the same boundless confidence that had always drawn R to him, and also infuriated him constantly. "It will take a lot of planning, and skill, and luck, but the four of us can do it. It will work. And things will change."

Enjolras believed it. Combeferre and Courfeyrac looked thoughtful, as if they were willing to be convinced, and Enjolras was very convincing.

It felt as though everything was right again, himself and Combeferre and Courfeyrac listening to Enjolras' plans. Had Joly and Bossuet been there, it would have been perfect. 

Of course, had Joly and Bossuet and Jehan still been alive, perhaps Enjolras would not be quite so keen to destroy the Bondsmagi. Or maybe he would, but Combeferre and Courfeyrac and R himself might be less willing to listen, if they didn't have the prospect of revenge to sweeten the deal.

It was a truly terrible plan. But it was the kind of fun R hadn't had in ages, the kind of fun he'd never been able to have without Enjolras to follow. And R hated the Bondsmagi as much as anyone.

They stayed up until dawn, discussing and hashing out plans, Enjolras snapping at R for poking holes in every single one of his ideas, and when R finally left with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, the three of them were laughing like children again.

-

Throughout everything, they had to keep up appearances of the game of the election, which took up a fair bit of their time. Enjolras was ruthlessly good at it, disrupting the political party R and Combeferre and Courfeyrac had been entrusted with at every turn. R had thought that Enjolras might slack in his attentions to this game, given his distaste for it, and the fact that he had his grand plan to attend to, but R was wrong in this. He should have known, of course; Enjolras was incapable of doing anything halfway.

Enjolras nearly burned down their party's headquarters, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac got a few of Enjolras' leaders arrested, and R tried very hard to break into the inn where Enjolras had set up camp. It was fun, and very nearly pointless, but it gave R something to do other than get drunk and worry about how this would all end, so in that way it was good.

Enjolras' other plan, the terrible one, progressed. R caught glimpses of him meeting with his contacts, in a different disguise every time: a priest, a beggar, a pretty young girl. The last time R had seen Enjolras dress as a woman had been during the disastrous performances of The Republic of Thieves. He smiled at the memory.

Enjolras lit up when he talked about his grand plans, about all the things he wanted for Karthain. It was funny, because Enjolras probably thought this was starting small. R knew he wanted to do something like this in Camorr, someday; Enjolras loved Camorr fiercely, loved the people and the canals and the beautiful and terrifying Elderglass towers, but Enjolras couldn't love something without also seeing its flaws, and wanting to fix them. Enjolras thought he was going to be able to cause a political upheaval in fucking Karthain, of all places, and then be able to go back to Camorr for seconds.

He really could be very naïve, sometimes. It was almost endearing.

They kept meeting at nights. Sometimes they sat and talked quietly, and Enjolras leaned his head against R's shoulder and kissed him before he left, and sometimes they sat across the table and argued, until one of them got fed up enough to leave. Both kinds of night were wonderful. R hadn't thought he was ever going to have either of these things again, getting along with Enjolras or fighting with him, and he wasn't sure how long it was going to last this time. 

One night, they were drinking wine on a boat in the harbor, R rather more than Enjolras, and he said something stupid. 

"Why are you here, R?" Enjolras asked, swirling his wine around in his glass and staring at it, as if it might hold the answers.

"For the joy of watching your pretty face, of course. Why else?" R said, mostly just to be a dick. Enjolras was in a pensive mood, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. An argument might jar him out of it.

Enjolras didn't take the bait. "I know you and Combeferre and Courfeyrac were in Tal Verrar before this. What brought you here? What made the Bondsmagi want you for this job?"

"I could ask the same of you, Enjolras."

"They asked me because they thought it would bother you; I saw no reason not to accept, and many reasons to do so," he said, matter-of-factly. "Your refusal to answer the question is making me somewhat suspicious, R." Enjolras stood up to pace. 

"Perhaps, Enjolras, it's none of your business why I'm here. You're not our leader anymore."

Enjolras crossed his arms and glared. "What did they offer you?" he demanded.

"Gods," R said, frustrated and slightly drunk, "they saved my life, alright?"

Enjolras stopped walking. "And why did they need to do that?" he asked, coldly.

"It was nothing," R said. "Look, it's all sorted out now, there's really nothing for you to worry about, will you please calm down?"

Enjolras, unconvinced, stepped closer to R, eyes alight. It really was a shame that he was so beautiful when he was angry at R; maybe if he wasn't, R would be better about not making pissing him off in the first place. "Tell me," he said, in a voice that brooked no argument.

"There was a thing," R said. "With some poison, after the business Combeferre and Courfeyrac and I got into in Tal Verrar. Patience sorted it out for me, and that's why I agreed to work for her. Otherwise I would've stayed as clear of this city as I could manage for the rest of my fucking life."

"A thing," Enjolras said slowly. "With some poison."

R shrugged. Enjolras still looked murderous. 

"The details would take more wine and longer than we have to hash out. Just...there was poison, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac and I had all taken it, and there was only enough antidote for two. So."

"And they agreed to take it and leave you to die?" Enjolras asked, aghast.

R laughed. "Do you know us at all, Enjolras? We fought over which of us wouldn't take it for days, of course. I tricked them. They were furious at me for it, too, so you can skip that yourself, if you like."

Enjolras did not seem to want to skip it. "You've always been reckless with your own life, R," he said, and at that, R could not help but laugh.

"You put your own life at risk almost daily, Enjolras, and think nothing of it. Your life is at risk simply by being here, and you've insisted on making it worse with this _plan_ of yours, and I've gone along with it because you're terribly convincing, and because I don't want you to die alone."

"We're not going to die, R," Enjolras said. 

"Ever the optimist," R said. "So, is that how it is? It's perfectly all right when it's you who's risking my life, but when I do it it's a disgrace? You're a piece of work, Enjolras."

"You put your life at risk for no reason," said Enjolras. "You always have."

"I gave them the antidote to save Combeferre and Courfeyrac's lives! How can you call that no reason?"

Enjolras clenched and unclenched his hands and opened his mouth a few times, immediately shutting it again each time. R waited, unwilling to break the silence first, and eventually Enjolras spoke. "I worry about you," he said, finally. "All the time I was gone, I worried, but I always thought of how good you were at getting yourself out of trouble, and felt better. But I forgot about how good you are at getting yourself into trouble, too." He sighed, sat down at the table again, tipped his face back to stare at the ceiling, unable or unwilling to look R in the face. "You make things complicated, R. I never know how to deal with you."

R watched him, golden Enjolras, defeated by his feelings. "You know," he said, "I think all of that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

Enjolras winced, and R laughed. "Oh, don't feel bad," he said. "I always knew what I was getting into with you."

"That doesn't make it right," Enjolras said.

"Maybe not," R agreed. "But I still love you regardless." 

It wasn't the first time he'd said that to Enjolras, and gods willing, it wouldn't be the last. Enjolras never seemed to know what to say to him afterwards, one of the few times he was ever struck speechless. He looked at R for a moment, and then he looked down, staring at his hands resting in the table. "Things are put into place for tomorrow," he said. "You should get some sleep."

"I know," said R, and he rose to leave. Enjolras watched him, and R stopped by his chair. He put a hand to Enjolras' cheek and kissed him once on the forehead before he went.

-

Planting the alchemical powder wasn't Enjolras' job, but he still wanted to be there to make sure it was distributed properly, and so R went with him. 

Enjolras' agents in the city were ruthlessly competent. R wondered where he'd found the time to vet them properly, sitting on a crate and watching them move around him.

"It's going well," Enjolras said, standing beside him once the warehouse had been nearly emptied.

"Didn't Lamarque teach you anything?" R asked, only half joking. "Never say things like that before the con's done."

"This isn't quite a con," Enjolras pointed out. "And I merely wished to cheer your from your gloomy thoughts."

R put a hand to his heart. "My thoughts are never gloomy when I am in your presence," he said, and was gratified when that got a laugh out of Enjolras. 

"I know you're a better liar than that, R," Enjolras said, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth, and then he went silent, staring at something over R's shoulder.

R turned, and cursed, because of course the Bondsmagi would pick _now_ to exercise their skill of appearing and disappearing at will.

There was only one of them, a man R had never seen before, but R knew very well that even one lone Bondsmage could be a problem.

"And what, pray tell," asked the Bondsmage, "are you planning to do with all this?"

R, sitting on the last few crates of powder, opened his mouth to answer, to spin some line of bullshit to buy some time, to do _anything_. Before he got the chance to say a word, though, Enjolras drew his fist back and punched the man in the face. The Bondsmage went down. The problem with Bondsmagi, R mused, was that they were so wrapped up in the idea of their own invincibility that they occasionally let their guard down, and it came back to bite them in the ass.

"There's going to be hell to pay when he wakes up," R pointed out. "And not just because you hit him."

Enjolras pulled a knife from his boot, and knelt, looking up at R. "Who says he's going to wake up?" he asked.

Of course, R thought a little dizzily, as he watched Enjolras slit the man's throat. Enjolras thought nothing of overthrowing the Bondsmagi's rule of Karthain, thought nothing of attempting to destroy the seat of their power. Why would he think anything of killing one of them, the one thing even R had never dared do, even after one of them murdered half of his friends?

"Ila justicca vei cala," Enjolras said, once it was done, eyes burning and voice dark, rubbing at the blood on his knuckles. It was easy to forget, sometimes, amongst the idealism and righteous fury, that Enjolras was Camorri at heart. His justice would always be red. 

Enjolras wiped the blood from the knife off onto the man's shirt. R offered him his hand, and didn't let go after he'd pulled Enjolras to his feet. He ran his thumb across Enjolras' bruised knuckles, and gave in to the urge to kiss them. 

Enjolras smiled, brilliantly, and R couldn't help but smile back. Enjolras put his other hand in R's hair and kissed him once, slowly, not letting go of his hand. Pulling back, he said, "We have to go."

"I know," said R, thinking perhaps he knew better than Enjolras himself. Enjolras led him away, their hands still linked, and R followed.


End file.
